Two Halves of a Flag
by Ryocha
Summary: Short drabble pieces starring Graham Aker and Billy Katagiri, depicted in friendship and in love - whatever suits your tastes. Used to be "Forever".
1. Winter Wonderland

**Operation ONE  
Entry ONE**

_Winter Wonderland_

* * *

UNION Military Base: Codename DESMOND HEIGHTS  
_Edmonton, Alberta, Canada _  
December 18th, 2306  


* * *

"Graham, just so you know, this means nothing."

"I know, Billy," Graham drawled, his faint southern accent more pronounced when sarcasm was hinted, "Just keep your hands on your knees and we'll be fine."

"Good."

To think that on all of the days that the MSWAD base had to cut its power source for twenty four hours in order to accommodate a local town; it had to be the day when Billy and Graham happened to have coinciding days off and decided to work on the Flag's OS. Snow fell in heavy clumps just outside the protective roof of the hanger, covering the ground and a single Flag in a blanket of white. It was nothing short of beautiful – if it weren't for the key for the operating room being locked inside the operating room itself and Billy and Graham unable to leave the premise, that is.

"There's only one blanket? Are you sure you checked everywhere?"

"Yes." Billy sighed exasperatingly, and adjusted his glasses; "It's not that cold out, so you can use this blanket."

"Says the man who was raised in Vancouver." Graham shot back with an indignant huff. He had the brown afgan wrapped around his waist and shoulders, his eyes and nose barely peeking out above the warm confines.

Billy laughed, barely audible, "I'm still a Canuck, through and through." He sat beside Graham, and leaned back against the wall, shivering as his shoulder blades made contact with metal panels. He tried to not show it.

"Regardless of where you were born in, you've cold and it's obvious."

Billy shuddered as a gust of wind blew through the open hanger, bringing fluttering snowflakes with it. "I'm fine, really."

Graham opened his mouth to retort, but closed it suddenly as he rolled over all options. He could share the afghan with Billy and have someone walk in on them (he doubted it, but it was still a possibility that some lost soul wondered where the pair had gone); or he could do just as Billy said and keep the blanket to himself, and let Billy freeze regardless of what his tall, handsome partner wanted to make him think.

_I mean handsome in a complimenting way. Men are allowed to say that,_ Graham told himself reassuringly, despite another part of him whispering seductively to him otherwise, _He does look cold_.

Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion, Graham began sliding closer to his technical adviser. He felt embarrassed, but did not show it on his face. "Billy, here." He offered a corner of the afgan, warm and inviting.

Billy stared at is as if it had grown a head, "Graham." He stated quite harshly, as if scolding a small child. Graham's ego swelled, but not enough to deter him from his mission. "I mean it, take it. I don't care if you were born in Nunavut, you still feel the cold as much as any other person and I can't risk getting you sick on behalf of my selfishness."

Silence passed between the two men as their eyes locked, befuddled brown and persistent emerald clashing in a mute battle. A strong gust of wind found it necessary to howl through the hanger with a high whistle at that moment, bringing with it a sudden cloud of blowing snow that danced over the sleek bodies of the Flags. The cold seemed more real than ever as part of the snowstorm made its way over to where the two men sat against the wall, and Billy only had enough time to close his eyes and hope his skin wouldn't get frost-bite in a fleeting thought.

However, that moment never came. Only a mere second after closing his eyes, he heard a sharp curse word being muttered just above his bangs, and opened his eyes to see Graham shielding him from the wind with the afgan wrapped protectively around his body. The blond's face was tinged red from the cold or from embarrassment – Billy liked to to think it was the former – and his eyes were sharp, meeting his for a fleeting moment before shutting tight as the wind whipped around his face and brought sharp ice crystals in between them. Somewhere, in between the flurry of snow and ice, Billy found himself taking Graham's torso into his arms and pulling his face into his exposed dress shirt and tie. A surprised grunt was his only reply.

A minute later, the winds died down enough for both men to open their eyes safely. The cool wind still swept through their hair, and as Billy stared up at Graham, he remembered what fairy tales would say about Princes with flowing blond hair with sparkles fluttering behind them. With the sunlight peeking in through the clouds and illuminating the hangar with a golden bask of rays, Graham indeed would have been a picture-book reference for such a cliché.

Emerald eyes blinked at Billy, somewhat confused, but very annoyed that his pants had crystallized on the back of his thighs from the snowstorm. Both men slowly realized the proximity between them, and pulled apart as if the latter were suddenly scorching hot instead of freakishly cold.

"Well," Billy coughed, taking his glasses into his hands gingerly, wiping the lenses clean of ice with his thumb, "Thank you for your protection, Graham. I believe I owe you a coffee?"

"You don't owe me anything." The blond ace grumbled, and Billy swore that the new red flush to Graham's cheeks must have been due to the cold. "Just accept my offer next time."

A door across the hangar opened up suddenly. It yelled for the pair to come inside, warm up and report to HQ for a sudden briefing, and then closed just as quickly. The brunette still sat on the bench, this time with a smile on his face as he put his glasses back on, "Seems we never get a break." He said quietly.

Graham paused, "Yeah, I suppose so." And began off for the door.

Billy watched his partner for a second. _Sometimes, you need to be more honest with yourself, Graham._ He got up, dusted his pants off and slung the afgan over his shoulder. He caught up to Graham once realizing that the blond had stopped, turned around, and waited for him to catch up.__

....  
//END OF TRANSMISSION


	2. Tied Up

**Operation TWO  
Entry ONE**

_Tied Up  
_

* * *

La Villa Shopping Complex  
_Phoenix, AZ, USA _  
January 5th, 2307

* * *

There was something sweet with the scene before him, Billy pondered to himself on a crisp fall afternoon, but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be finding it slightly hilarious or slightly disturbing.

Before him, struggling on the floor, was Graham Aker trying on a pair of new dress shoes. Billy noted with a small smile that, despite his partner's mannerism and painstaking perfection when it came to his Flag, he was a struggling klutz when attempting to perform everyday necessities outside of the military.

"I didn't think MSWAD would deter your necessary skills elsewhere." Billy mentioned offhandedly to Graham, who shot a poisonous look over his shoulder as he struggled with the laces of his new shoes. "But shoes aren't that hard to tie. Just pretend they're a Gun—"

"I can _tie_ my own shoes, Katagiri."

"Impress me, then."

His never ending humour with Graham would be the death of him one day, he swore. The blond let go a soft 'harumph' and went back to fiddling with the tongues and laces of the shoes. Billy let go a soft chuckle, perhaps out of pity, and with the soft flick of a ponytail, bent down in between Graham's legs and gently plucked Graham's hands from the troubling shoe.

"Kata—"

"No complaints; I still need to find a tie, remember?"

"Whatever style it is, it's going to be purple." The Union Ace shot back with just as much vigor as his technical adviser. They locked eyes for a second, emerald green clashing with dancing grey. Then, with a slow exhale of defeat, Graham closed his eyes and let Billy play with the troubling laces expertly.

It only took a few minutes for the older man to undo to mess that had once plagued his friend's feet, and by that time, Graham's face was a mix of feverish embarrassment and gratefulness.

"Just get up from there."

"Alright, alright. Can we go to the tie section now?"

The blond man sighed, picked up what dignity he had left, and followed behind Billy with a sway of defeat in his shoulders and legs.


	3. My Loving Eyes

**Operation THREE  
Entry ONE**

_My Loving Eyes  
_

* * *

667 Wellington Private Cres.  
_New York, NY, USA _  
September 6th, 2312

* * *

The night was crisp but not cool, for humidity seemed not to enjoy occupying the same space as A-LAWS and had fled the premise early into the evening upon the gala opening its doors to the top brass, bow ties and tuxedos pressed and free of any blemishes. From the entrance to the large estate, Mr. Bushido watched limo after limo pull up slowly, anticipatingly, waiting for the right moment to let loose its occupants. They all became a steady blurr after a while, but the blond man kept at it, cobalt eyes honed and keeping track of all the Captains, Colonels and Majors to set foot inside the party.

His hand grabbed for his keys and turned the car off absentmindedly, silence falling heavy over the road he rested on save for the sounds coming from the party. It did not deter Mr. Bushido, though; He was watching and waiting for a specific person to show up and he didn't want to miss him. He'd heard from his colleagues (at a great distance, so not to seem suspicious) that one of the higher ups had let his nephew come aboard on special permission, and coincidentally this nephew had been a technical advisor at his prime when the Union was still established.

Mr. Bushido froze, if but for a split second, as the man in question rose from a limo alongside another man, both of their broad shoulders matching the other's perfectly. The only difference in their stance belonged to the smaller – though both of them were clearly over six feet tall – of the two, which was noticeable with the slight droop in his shoulders and the long ponytail that swept over angled shoulderblades.

He watched from afar, not deterred by the breeze that blew his hair in front of his eyes. He recognized this man immediately, even if he didn't want to. Memories, disjointed from his current alias, surfaced as he watched Billy Katagiri look over his shoulder to one of the party guests, smiling appreciatingly at the young woman who approached him. She latched onto his arm immediately. Mr. Bushido could tell straight away that it was forced happiness the older man was putting on for the woman, and felt relieved.

He wasn't being replaced, not just yet.


	4. Helping Hand

**Operation THREE  
Entry ONE**

_Helping Hand  
_

* * *

34 Preston Avenue  
_Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada_  
February 7th, 2307

* * *

There was a sweet aroma in the air that was bothering Graham. He preffered sour foods, and would remind Billy on occasion when his coworker invited him out to eat. Nothing was too spicy or too sour for Graham Aker, but cheesecake? He shuddered at the though.

However, the blond realized dimly where he was; on a couch or a love seat of some sort, he wasn't quite sure which. An itchy blanket was draped over his torso and legs and in his impatience he pushed it down to his waist, slowly beginning to come to his senses. His eyes began to adjust to the bright room he was in, but couldn't help releasing a groan as, upon bringing himself up onto his elbows, a full beam of sunlight shone into his eyes.

To his left, a soft chuckle was heard. "So you finally woke up. I was beginning to ponder if I should pull out my fog horn."

"Ugh… Katagiri?" Another bemused laugh and a click, and Graham cursed at his friend taking pictures on his phone when he was at his worst. "What time is it?"

"10:34 – I didn't expect you to sleep in this late." Billy was already moving across the room to Graham's side, bending down to get a better look at the blond's face. "You don't look like you got hurt too badly," a calloused hand came up to Graham's face, brushing aside blond bangs to examine his forehead carefully. Graham sat in a stupor, slowly taking in the serious look in the brunette's eyes, "It looks like it's healing over. You should be fine to leave in a couple of hours."

"That's what _you'd_ like to think." The Union ace retorted with a snort. Billy sat on his thighs, and gave a long-winded sigh.

"Just take it easy today, alright? You fell pretty hard."

"Good thing you were there to catch me, eh?" Graham answered smoothly, already massaging the goose egg on his forehead and the bandage that covered it. "What did I fall into, anyway?" Worry began to swell inside the blond's chest; his eyes weren't adjusting properly, and Billy's face – so close to his – seemed out of focus.

"The corner of my coffee table… the first time, anyway." The brunette answered with a hint of amusement, but his eyes narrowed in concern oncemore. Billy stood up abruptly, watching Graham's eyes squint and follow slowly, confirming the worst fear he had for his friend.

"Are you having trouble with your sight—"

"No, I'm fine." Graham interjected sharply, although the slight furrow of his brows told otherwise.

"You're squinting."

"No I'm not."

"Should I call up the on-base doctor? I'm sure he could take a—"

"Billy," Graham's voice growled, and his eyes shone dangerously despite being unfocused, "I'm fine. Just give me a few hours, and then we'll call the doctor."

Billy was taken aback by Graham's behaviour, usually used to simply being called by his last name upon the blond finding out it was a sign of respect in Japan. The older of the two took an indifferent approach to it, but it somehow excited him knowing that Graham used his first name – reproachfully or not.

He left the room in order to let Graham cool down. He came back several minutes later, a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers in his hands. As he approached Graham's spot on the sunny couch, he could see the solemn look his friend wore over the top of his glasses.

"No need to look so down, I should have known." Billy piped up, and extended the glass of water and the bottle to Graham. It took a second for the younger man's hands to feel for the cup, but he took two pills and drank the water slowly. As he did so, Billy sat down beside him and pulled the blanket off his lap, folded it neatly and layed it over the arm of the couch.

"Sorry, my words earlier were too harsh." Graham finally spoke, staring at the floor in concentration. Billy sighed, and leaned back.

"No need, I'm used to it by now." He craned his neck to look properly at the blond, whose torso was bowed over his knees with his elbows resting on his thighs. "Do you think your eyesight is getting better?"

"A bit." Graham responded. "I should thank you for taking care of me, but…"

"But?" Billy quirked an eyebrow.

"Nothing. Can you help me get to the washroom?" Graham made a motion to stand, but Billy was already up and slinging his friend's arm around his shoulder.

"Do you need help when you're inside?"

"If I need help, I'll give you a call. What do you say?" Billy noted with a bemused smile that, when being sarcastic, Graham's southern accent became more prominent.

"Sounds good to me."


	5. Snow Days Aren't Always Cold

**Operation FIVE  
Entry ONE**

_Snow Days Aren't Always Cold  
_

* * *

UNION Military Base: Codename DESMOND HEIGHTS  
_Edmonton, Alberta, Canada _  
January 2nd, 2307

* * *

Snow was a fragile element of nature; only single pieced to a never-ending puzzle. Even alone, if one piece is out of place, then the entire puzzle gets thrown off-kilter. Thus, a disturbance in the force is created.

Billy leans over his desk and props his elbows on the edge, his chin cupped in both palms as he stares out the window of his office. He wishes the heater would work in his department, but the repairs were still in progress for Finances and wouldn't reach his building until next week. For now he settles with a thick blanket that lays askew on his shoulders.

Outside, the snow falls neverendingly. Billy has to squint to see the midway point of the launch track, and even then the faded gray lines only blearily indicate where the road ends and begins. Down below, like black and orange specs, are the mechanics attempting to bring in the last of the Flags before the snow causes any damage to the delicate mechanisms under the steel armor.

For some reason, he chuckles to himself. It was his first time in Canada this year, but it already felt like a millennium had passed since he last set foot on Canadian soil. More than that, snow was considered something of a miracle anywhere below Las Vegas, which was where he'd been spending most of his time fine-tuning the Flags and rushing from base to base on call twenty-four seven. There was no rest; there was always work to be done.

But for now, it was silent. For some reason, the spectacle-wearing man found this fact slightly disturbing. Even the far-off hum of electric drills didn't soothe his soul, and so in his impatience he raises himself from his chair briskly and makes a beeline for the door.

The halls of Desmond Heights were always teeming with life – even the Finance Department had its share of humerous pranks now and again, even in the dead of winter. The Research Facility was no exception to the hive of activity taking place. As Billy enters the maze of cubicles, heads poked up from cubicles to yell something out to a colleague concerning schematics, and another set of researchers avidly whispering about remodeling this and that, while another walked briskly to his supervisor with plans to renovate the Flag hangers. They were all so young and bright eyed and bushy-tailed and very, very eager to please. Billy strides past them, his shoulders held high and, much to his surprise, turns heads every which way. His ponytail even manages to sway in an professional way, putting girls to shame left and right.

Billy exits the Finance's building and makes a quick stop at a Plexiglas map, then continues on his way. He silently curses why the hangers were so far away from the Research Facility, but in his mutterings he almost slams head-on into Graham while turning a corner.

The blond stumbles back uncharacteristically surprised, and for a second Billy catches an expression he's never seen Graham wear before. Just as quickly it is replaced with a stern, pinched-brow look that signals authority from every individual nearby. He speaks, low and urgent, "Watch where you walk next time, Katagiri."

There's a hint of embarrassment in his voice, Billy notices with a small smile; he can tell with the way the words were rushed from the ever-careful mouth of the Ace. Billy chuckles and shifts his clipboard into his other hand.

"Where are you heading to?"

"Finance."

This surprises Billy. He presses further, "How come? You're not usually the one to deal with those things. I am."

Graham looks taken aback and his eyes shift to look out the window. The blanket of white prevents anything beyond the hangar from being seen.

"I'm meeting someone there."

To this, Billy raises his eyebrows. "A woman?"

"Yes."

The brunette laughs, a throaty sounds coming out that even startles himself. "Really! Goodluck in the hunt, then."

Graham gives Billy a long, long stare. Then, one laughs and the other follows. Warmth pools in both their abdomens.

"Thanks for the gratitude, I suppose. See you tonight at the briefing." Graham strides smoothly around Billy, giving a short salute with a wink as he passes. Billy can't help but snort.

"Some dedicated pilot he is."

Outside, the snow falls endlessly. Billy pauses in thought, watching Graham stride away and into the beehive cubicles in search of his mystery woman. Indeed, a disturbance in the force has been created.

_To see what it creates is half the fun_, Billy thinks to himself.


End file.
